


Power

by tacky_tramp



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1514216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacky_tramp/pseuds/tacky_tramp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you know what a man wants, you know who he is, and how to move him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power

**Author's Note:**

> Picks up immediately after the last Alayne chapter in FFC.

The fire was dying and the room was hot and close. Her body ached, the muscles of her back crying out for a soft bed or at least a hot bath, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so awake.

"... So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa: Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell."

Did she dare believe it? So many sweet escapes had been dangled before her like toy mice for a cat; but time after time, they'd been snatched away, or she'd caught them only to discover the prize was nothing but sawdust and tattered cloth. If she'd learned nothing else these last years, she'd learned pessimism. Life was not a song, and Petyr's grand story sounded like a song to her. That would have made Sansa Stark believe in it wholeheartedly; Alayne knew the world didn't allow such romantic dreams to come true. And she knew Petyr knew that better than anyone else. 

_I thought he wanted to teach me to play the game, but he still sees me as a piece. A pretty piece who needs pretty lies to keep her happy._

His fingers still curled loosely around her wrist, and the predatory edge had crept back into his smile. "That's worth another kiss now, don't you think?" 

She stiffened reflexively. Heedless, he tugged on her wrist and drew her close, but stopped before their lips met. He studied her face for a moment. "Does it make you happy? Becoming the Lady of the Eyrie and Winterfell both?"

"It ... Yes, of course, I just ..."

"You'll be one of the most powerful women in Westeros," he pointed out. Then, as if considering it for the first time, he asked, "Do you want power?"

She looked away and fidgeted. Did she? When she had fantasized about being Joffrey's queen, she hadn't pictured herself wielding power. That was the king's job. She'd imagined wearing beautiful gowns and being the center of attention at lavish balls, nursing fat babies, eating lemon cakes every day. Stupid. Still, power seemed sordid and dangerous. She wanted home and peace and quiet. To get that, of course, she needed power -- a paradox she could contemplate later. Right now, she knew what he wanted to hear. She met his gaze and answered, "Yes, I do." 

He leaned in and kissed her. She smelled the spiced wine he'd been drinking, sweat lingering on him from travel, and the smoke of the nearby hearth. His beard was rough against her chin, his mouth closed against hers. She silenced the objections in her head ( _he's too old, he's supposed to protect me, he loved my mother_ ) and she found it wasn't altogether unpleasant. It was nice to be so close to someone, feeling every breath ghost over her cheeks. It reminded her of cold nights spent cuddling with Jeyne Poole, hugging each other for warmth and whispering secrets into each other's ears.

But this wasn't the kind of kiss he wanted. She'd seen men and women kissing, servants behind the stables, newlywed lords and ladies. It seemed a messy thing, all tongues and spit. 

_When you know what a man wants, you know who he is, and how to move him._

Experimentally, she parted her lips and let his lips fit into hers. With a sigh, he tilted his head and pulled her to him. She supposed it was important to tilt your head to avoid a collision of noses. One hand still locked around her wrist, he lifted the other to her face; it hovered for a moment by her cheek, fingertips barely brushing a lock of her hair; then he broke the kiss and sat back. His lips were very red and his eyes were glossy.

"I expect Lady Royce is waiting for you to warm her feet," he said in a raw voice. She nodded and got up to leave.

Pausing in the doorway, she looked back over her shoulder. He was watching her, absently rubbing his fingers together. She couldn't remember when she'd seen him so unguarded.

Alayne smiled. "Good night, Father," she said, and drew the door closed behind her.


End file.
